The Art of the Cockblock: Kurosaki Ichigo Edition
by hashtagartistlife
Summary: "I have an exam in three days, and if you so much as TOUCH any of the other papers on this desk I will punch you in the dick." Well, that's one way to kill a mood. Kurosaki Ichigo wonders what he's done in a past life to deserve this. [Ichiruki]
**My Ichiruki skype chat were discussing the most ridiculous ways Ichigo could get cockblocked, and then someone threw in the line of dialogue in the summary. And before I could stop myself I found myself writing this.**

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 **The Art of the Cockblock: Kurosaki Ichigo Edition**

by _hashtagartistlife_

"Rukia."

Ichigo's voice is low, smoldering—it's a husky breath of a voice, with an undercurrent of what is almost a growl running through it. It's the kind of voice you'd probably want to hear on the other end of a phone sex line, the kind that snakes around your body like a caress and speaks to you about half-lidded eyes and shared secrets and unchecked desires. It's the kind of voice you'd would want whispering into your ear, as you're skin-to-skin and hip-to-hip and playing out every private fantasy your mind can possibly conjure up.

Rukia knows that voice, and she's not having any of it.

"No, Ichigo," she says firmly, not even taking her eyes off the papers she's strewn out over _his_ desk. "Not tonight."

"Why not?" Ichigo persists, still in that smoky come-hither voice. He drops it a further half-tone and skates his fingers across her bare shoulders, across the base of her neck. "Are you _sure_? Too much stress is _extremely_ detrimental to efficient studying, you know. Trust me, I'm a doctor's son."

Rukia snorts. "Bringing up your father in this situation isn't exactly going to make me want to bang you, you know," she says, and behind her, Ichigo internally curses. _Fuck_. He really was as bad at this 'seducing' thing as Renji had said he was going to be. Not that he was going to let the bastard have the satisfaction of knowing he was right. The night was still young. He still had time to get Rukia away from those damned papers of hers. He wouldn't give up just like _that_.

He bends down double and places a gentle kiss on Rukia's neck, where it slopes into her shoulder. He kisses up along the path of her jugular, alternating between lips and tongue, and pauses when he gets to the skin below her earlobe. He stops there, his mouth a hair's breadth from her skin, and is pleased to see Rukia isn't entirely unaffected by his attempts—she shivers, and he lets out a long, hot breath onto the triangle of skin just behind her ear.

He takes her earlobe between his teeth, and Rukia drops her pencil.

"Ichigo…" she says, and he's positively smug at the breathless quality of her voice.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, his hands carding through her hair to pull it away from her neck. He licks a spot just under her jaw ( _Cheater,_ Rukia thinks, he _knew_ what that spot did to her), and revels in her soft moan.

He has this in the _bag_.

"Yeah, Rukia?" he prompts, husky and low, still concentrating on kissing down her jawline to reach her lips, when Rukia swivels around to look him straight in the eye and says—

"What's Newton's Second Law of Motion?"

He deflates faster than a popped balloon. _"What?"_ he demands, collapsing to his knees with the _absurdity_ of the question, one arm hooked around the back of Rukia's chair for balance. "Are you _seriously_ thinking about that _now?!_ "

"Well, I told you, I have to learn all your human-world academics now, especially since I'm on 'long-term reconnaissance', and the Soutaichou expects nothing but the best from us wherever we are, and—"

"Rukia. I am _seducing_ you. I was doing a pretty damn good job at it too! And you want to think about _physics?_ "

Rukia scoffs. "Please, Ichigo, you're a hundred years too young to get anywhere _close_ to successfully seducing me—"

There's no other word for it. Ichigo growls, and _pounces_ like a cat going for prey. Rukia's eyes widen in the split second before he makes contact, and the next thing she knows, she's pinned to the desk by her wrists, Ichigo bending over her. He's got a knee shoved between her legs, and his face is bare _inches_ from hers.

A single loose paper falls to the floor. Rukia feels her pencil digging into her back.

"What're you gonna do now, then, huh?" Ichigo smirks, and god, if there's one thing Ichigo's won the genetic lottery for, it's his 'I won and I know it' smirk. His hair falls into his face _just_ so, his eyes light up with a wild amber fire, and the unshakeable confidence drawn in the curve of his lips is enough to make _anyone_ weak at the knees.

Rukia considers him a moment, before speaking.

"I have an exam in three days," she enunciates clearly, and sees Ichigo's smile dropping further with every syllable out of her mouth, "and if you so much as TOUCH any of the other papers on this desk I will punch you in the dick."

Ichigo opens his mouth to say something, closes it, opens it, then shuts it again.

Then he meekly lets Rukia go, before slinking out of his room.

Rukia huffs, and straightens her dress. She picks up the piece of paper that fell off the table, and resumes studying. If she fails this test because of _Ichigo_ , he's never going to get laid again.

(She achieves a 95% for the test. She blames Ichigo for the missing 5%.)


End file.
